For years, our town’s spring festival was called Fest-i-Fun. Vendors lined our little Main Street with the usual festival fare. Teenagers roamed the streets, boys attempting a swagger and girls whispering and giggling about them. Kids turned sticky from cotton candy and begged their parents for sand art. When we were in high school, our (at that time, one) high school marching band had been state champions for years. We had a sign on one of our main roads touting our wins and each year a plaque would be added with the year. In May of 1994 when there were probably 20 plaques, Scott and I had just begun our courtship. And by courtship, I mean many late night phone calls. By the 7th day, he was my real boyfriend. Fest-i-Fun was the following weekend and Scott was one of the drummers. I was smitten. We stood at the end of Main Street where the marching band was standing in a semi-circle and listened. I can’t even recall which friend I was whispering to beside me. All I know is it turns out his mom was standing right next to us. That’s the first time she saw me.
Since the mid-90s our little town has outgrown a Main street festival. They renamed it to the Strawberry Festival a few years back and moved it to a nearby park. The festival kicked off Monday, with the festivities arching over the whole week now. Tuesday they offered half-price pick your own strawberries and a movie for the kids. Since I drink a smoothie every day for lunch, the strawberry picking was a must but for some reason I just needed Scott and the kids to go. The kids wanted to go swim with a neighbor and Scott really didn’t want to go but I just kept pushing. Usually, I’m fine to do my own thing but something just made me want to go with them.
I was thinking on it last night and finally put it together that this Strawberry Festival we were participating in was the same Fest-i-Fun festival I’d stood at 18 years ago. Something down deep stirred when I realized that. The circle of life or some kind of jazz. All I know is, it’s good. Very good I fell in love with a drummer boy and now get to go pick strawberries with our babies.
I love this! I need to go pick strawberries one day. The way you described everything reminds me of the festival in my grandparents town in Illinois. The Turkey Festival. Over the last 34 years, I’ve gone at least 25 times. Something about it is so special even though I don’t go as often as I used to.
Becky, let me know and I will go with you to pick strawberries. Not sure how much longer it will be open. The whole thing probably takes 20 minutes!
testing. becky, let me know if you get an email.
I did get an email for this testing reply. But not the other reply.
Becky recently posted…Beyond Waiting
Love it!!!
This made me just smile and smile. Sweet story and so well written.
Thank you, Tricia. I hate to say I don’t know your history with Fort Mill. Were you around for those days?
Oh I’d give anything for some fresh picked strawberries right now! We used to go pick them every May at this berry farm in my home town. I love that pic of you & your sister btw! That top & those cute wellies are so pretty on you. Hope y’all had a great weekend!
Ally Garner recently posted…Happy Birthday Giveaway!
Ally, thank you, I had to laugh at my outfit that day. I wore that tank with a sweater and pants to work. It was SO HOT that day that I put on shorts and then I didn’t want to wear flip flops b/c I knew it’d be dirty so I put on my wellies. My goodness, what an outfit!
The strawberries have been so good this year. You should try to get down here for some fresh ones!